Sunday, September 16, 2012

Cowgirl Sass & Savvy



The legend of Billy the Skunk

by Julie Carter

Let me preface this story with the caveat of yes, alcohol was involved. Most good cowboy stories do and never have I heard one that started with, “Right after we had a salad or two …”

However, in the years following this event, repeated sober recall has fine-tuned and layered the tale with unadulterated enhancement.

There had been a cowboy get-together of one sort or another, the occasion not the point, just the camaraderie of old friends, good food, cold beverages and unending laughter. It was the kind of evening that makes memories and threatens reputations.

Often referred to as “The Shoot Out at Cedar Hills,” today’s version from the point of view of the shooter is something for the archives of New Mexico history. Time has allowed him -- in his mind -- to spin infamy into fame.

It all began with hard core ridicule for a bad shot taken at a skunk that was slinking around in the dark.

“This rotten skunk was threatening the household of women,” he explains today. “And I, as a duty-bound agent of the law, was dispatched to the scene. I found the culprit that I believed to be cocked and locked, so in return I took a defensive position, fired and saw a dangerous threat fall. However, the bullet did also penetrate the home of the women folk.”

“It is my belief, that in spite of the taint on my abilities to fire accurately under the circumstances of that night, and the ridicule that followed over the hole in the house, this will be recorded in history along with the likes of Billy the Kid and Pat Garrett. After all, it was Lincoln County, and I am sure I heard the skunk utter the words, ‘Quien es? Quien es?’just before my first shot was fired. Give it a hundred years. I’ll be famous.”

The story has been told and retold and according to the law of legends, after the fifth telling it becomes fact.

“The investigators may try to prove that my aim was diminished by alcohol consumption,” the shooter defended, “but no one actually checked that night. Mr. 100 Percent Never Give a Drunk a Rifle, handed me the rifle to dispatch the skunk. The hole in the house is only inches above the ground, not through the living quarters.”

Later, it was discovered with a great deal of mirth that a couple of pilgrims who had rented a cabin nearby, Easterners who came to the West believing all buildings would have false fronts like a movie set and Indians still raided for scalps, were hiding under the kitchen table terrified of the gunfire.

There are some details that will never survive with the legend. The “agent of the law” is indeed an agent. An insurance agent. The first well aimed shot that killed the foundation of the house was not the bullet that actually killed the perpetrator, but in the end (the end of a pistol manned by a better shot) the skunk fell as intended.

A line from the movie, “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” fits this story perfectly. The newspaper man, understanding the truth about the killing of Valance, burns his notes and states, “This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

Julie can be reached for comment at jcarternm@gmail.com.





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